


The Perfect Storm

by jadedstandby



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:23:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedstandby/pseuds/jadedstandby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm brings Bucky into Steve's bed once again, and it leads to their first real heart to heart since Bucky came back. (Post-TWS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Storm

A bash of thunder roused Steve from his sound slumber. Lightning scalded his eyelids, but he just buried himself deeper into his covers. Another clap interrupted his efforts to slip back to sleep. He remembered when he was a kid, lying awake back in his bed in Brooklyn, and he would count the storm out. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi_ …

  
A soft creak on the floor outside of his room interrupted his thoughts. It wasn’t a surprise. _Hm,_ he mused in his head, _he used to knock_. He opened one eye just to see a flash of lightning bounce off of metal and a figure silhouetted near the foot of his bed.

  
“Thunderstorm got you again, Buck?” he said, his face half pressed into his pillow

.  
“Shut up, asshole.” Bucky sat down, his back braced against the baseboard. “I just don’t like it when it’s close.”

  
Steve practically felt Bucky’s wince when a real window-rattler pounded through his apartment. Buck had never been overly fond of thunderstorms, but to Steve, it seemed like discomfort had grown into fear after HYDRA. “Come on. Get in.” Steve lazily patted the bed space beside him. Bucky wordlessly climbed over the basebaord and slipped under the covers. A lightning flash allowed Steve a quick look at Bucky’s face. He was staring up at the ceiling, hints of fear dancing through his eyes. He clutched the covers with his metal hand, the blankets laced tight through the long silvery fingers.

  
“Any better, Bucky?” Steve asked.

  
Bucky shifted his position, looking across the pillow at Steve. “Yeah.”

  
Steve smiled at his friend, then closed his eyes.

  
He’d offered to buy Bucky a bed. He’d offered tons and tons of times. _C’mon, Buck, you’d rest easier than you do on the couch_ … thing was, it was a lie, and both Steve and Bucky knew it. Bucky hardly slept at all anymore. A good night would contain three, maybe four hours, if he was especially fortunate. A bad night… well a bad night is why he avoided sleep, as far as Steve knew.

  
Night terrors. Nightmare was not a strong enough word to describe what Bucky went through. He’d scream like he was being murdered. The screaming would last until Steve woke him. Then the panic attack would begin. Sometimes he’d start yelling at Steve in Russian. Other times he’d try to run off. Steve would have to restrain him, which was no easy feat. The worst times were when he’d lash out. He’d grab Steve, and shove him and pin him and swing at him, hard. The outbursts were short, but there was no denying that they were deadly. Often, he came out of it with a busted lip or a black eye. The worst part about it was Bucky’s remorse. When he snapped out of it, he’d look at Steve (and whatever injury was sustained in the outburst) and then at his own hands like he was seeing what they could do for the first time. Steve could practically feel Bucky’s self-hatred after it happened. It radiated off of him for hours, sometimes even days.

  
It was amazing, some days, how much Bucky had recovered. Almost back to the guy he had been. But the nights, they brought him back to HYDRA, back to being who he’d never wanted to be. No matter how many times Steve and Sam and whoever else said it was normal, Bucky still hated himself for it. That was the part of Bucky that was not recovering. The self-loathing part. And to Steve, it seemed that the self-loathing part is what Bucky needed the least.

Steve was only half asleep. He felt an arm snake across his chest. Bucky’s rigid form pressed to Steve’s more relaxed body and curled against it. Steve shifted to lay on his back, turning to glance at Bucky.

  
“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, a whisper like mist, barely audible over the din of rain on the window.

  
“’S okay, I wasn’t really asleep anyways.” Steve smiled and slipped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

  
“No, I knew you weren’t.” Bucky sighed. “I’m sorry about… about me.”

  
“What about you, Buck? You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

  
“I do a lot of things wrong.” Bucky drummed steadily on Steve’s chest with his metallic fingers. They caught the next streak of lightning as it flashed through the window. “I’m… angry. And I’m scared. You… you get beat up. I beat you up. I hop in your bed like a three year old whenever there’s a thunderstorm. I’m paranoid. I don’t go out, I don’t trust anyone. I’m a mess.”

  
“Bucky.” Steve moved his hand and began rubbing between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “Don’t say that. You went through a lot. Remember, Sam told you all of this is normal. He knows a lot about this kind of stuff.”

  
“Yeah. But…”

  
“There’s nothing to say ‘but’ about.”

  
“But I’m not your friend Bucky Barnes anymore.” Steve stopped rubbing and Bucky unattached himself from the other man completely. “I try to be the guy I remember, the one who was strong and on top of it. Courageous. All of that.” he paused for a moment. “The one who was there for you.” he glanced up at Steve.

  
Steve chuckled. Confusion crossed Bucky’s face and he furrowed his brow.

  
“Bucky,” Steve said, looking at the confused expression on his friend’s face. “That’s what friends _do_. You were there for me for a long time. And I needed it, bad.”  
“Learned how to throw a punch saving your ass.” Bucky half smiled, the confusion melting from his face.

  
Steve raised his eyebrows and continued. “Even after I became Captain America I needed someone. Someone like you—I wasn’t Captain America to you, I was just Steve. And I needed that.”

  
“Yeah, but I’m not that guy anymore.”

  
“That’s what happens with friends, Buck. I needed you. Now you need me. It’s like I’m paying you back all of those years you were saving my ass. Now I get to save yours. People change. Both of us did, in major ways. I don’t expect you to be the exact same, and you don’t expect that of me either. What matters is that you’re trying. We both are.”

  
Bucky looked down in thought. “Alright.” he said, his eyes meeting Steve’s again. “Answer me this. What if I don’t recover further from here? What if I don’t remember anything else, and I keep on re-lapsing, and the paranoia never goes away? What about that?”

  
Steve looked away from Bucky, adverting his eyes to the ceiling. “Well,” he said, finding Bucky’s hand under the covers and tracing it with his finger. “If you stop recovering… I’d still want you to get a haircut.” Steve caught a flash of Bucky’s knitted brow through his peripheral. “I’d still order us a pizza every Thursday. I’d still let you into my bed whenever there’s a thunderstorm. I’d still pretend I don’t notice that ‘The Vampire Diaries’ is in our Netflix queue. I’d still take care of you at night, when you have trouble. And if anyone were ever to ask who my best friend is, I’d answer, without a moment of hesitation, that his name is Bucky Barnes.If nothing changed, I’d still be perfectly happy. You know why? I still have a Bucky. Sure, you’re not completely the guy you were, you’re not James Buchannan Barnes, but you’re Bucky, my friend Buck, and that’s all I want. I’ll take a few hits, I won’t sleep a few nights, but it’s ‘cause I love you, Bucky. I really do.”

  
Bucky curled up next to Steve again, burying his head in the crook of Steve’s neck. “Thank you.” he whispered, his breath hot against Steve’s neck. “Thank you so much.”

  
“Hey, I wasn’t lying when I said I’d be with you ‘till the end of the line.” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him closer.

  
“Yeah, I know you weren’t. You’re a shitty liar.” Bucky pulled his face out of Steve’s neck and gave him a devilish grin.

  
Steve buried his elbow in Bucky’s side. “Shut up.” he grinned to match Bucky’s.

  
“Hey.” Bucky paused, glancing around and listening. “I think the storm’s gone.”

  
“I think so.” Steve nodded.

  
“I guess I’ll go, then.” Bucky pulled himself off of Steve and began to exit the bed, going back to the couch, where Steve knew he would lay awake until morning. Awake and alone.

  
“Buck. Wait.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Why don’t you stay here. Y’know, if you want-"

  
“I was afraid you weren’t gonna ask.” Bucky cut Steve off and slid back beside him. “’Course I do, stupid.”

  
Steve smiled as Bucky slid back into the position he had been in, curled against Steve once more. He closed his eyes, letting sleep take him over. Having Bucky next to him made it easier. No worries about his state of sleep or if he felt lonely.

  
“I love you too, Steve.” Bucky whispered after a few minutes. He probably thought Steve had dozed off.

  
“I know.” Steve whispered back. He felt Bucky stiffen in surprise. “Jerk.”

  
“Punk.” Bucky relaxed against Steve one last time, and, together, they both were lulled to sleep by rain on the roof and the sound of each other’s breathing.

And for the first time since HYDRA, Bucky fell asleep peacefully and normally. And Steve, for the first time since Bucky had come to him, felt like he really had his Bucky back. And to both of them, as they fell deeper into sleep and became a tangle of warm limbs on a stormy DC night, it felt like they were home again.

**Author's Note:**

> My first real fanfiction on AO3! Please tell me what I can improve, ect! Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
